


Better Kept Out of Mind

by sherwoodfox



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Animal Abuse, Domestic, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Is Oblivious, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Magic, Marriage, Married Life, Oral Sex, Protective Erik, Secret Relationship, Selkies, Slavery, Telepathy, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherwoodfox/pseuds/sherwoodfox
Summary: ”When angels fall, some fall to land, and others to sea. The former become fairies, and the latter become the seals.”In which Shaw is the chieftain of a struggling seaside clan in medieval Scotland, Erik is his unwilling acolyte, and Charles is a selkie.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies to Scottish/English/Inuit cultures for the mishmash of mythological references and historical styling. Please take the setting very loosely. That being said, feel free to imagine Erik in a kilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, WARNING for the first two scenes, they contain references to graphic violence put upon an animal.

“There,” Shaw murmured in Erik’s ear, pointing ahead over his shoulder and across the rocky beach. “That one will do.”

What he gestured to was a young gray seal- not so small as to be a pup, but not so large as to cause too much trouble, clearly only a few years into adulthood. The seal was lying on its side, flippers resting lazily over its plump belly, eyes closed in sleep on an ice flat. It was completely unaware of the two men watching it- perfectly comfortable, without the slightest clue of what was going to happen next.

Erik grit his teeth, his grip on the net in his hands tightening. Killing a seal was bad luck, that everyone knew- and eating its meat was worse. But winter this year had been long and cold and hard on the village, and it had followed a slim harvest- the people were starving, and the opportunities of spring were still a few moons off. There wasn’t much choice. They wouldn’t eat the meat, anyway, just the blubber, which had the power to strengthen weakened bodies and preserve life in the dying.

“Go on,” Shaw whispered with a cold grin, patting Erik’s shoulder paternally. At the gesture, a little spike of hatred flashed in his heart, but as always he pushed it down. “I know you can do it, Erik.”

Shrugging Shaw’s touch away without another word, Erik set out across the beach, slipping between driftwood and the remnants of dried bushes to disguise himself. His breathing was even, his footsteps silent, the net balanced lightly in front of him so it would not touch the ground- even if this wasn’t typical prey, he was an excellent hunter. Over the course of his youth, the chieftain had made sure of that.

The tricky part came next- once out in the open, with no further cover remaining, there was some distance before Erik would be in range of the seal. He approached from behind, but still- if it noticed him now, it might have a chance to escape, sliding across the ice to whatever crack or hole it had come from, free in the open sea. 

(In the back of his mind, Erik rather wished that this would happen, but he did not allow this to sabotage his effort. He didn’t fancy the punishment in store for failure.)

One step forward, then another. The seal continued to sleep, its breaths long and heavy. Its tail twitched once- perhaps it was dreaming.

Erik took another step, almost close enough now, and as he did so the seal woke- huge, liquid black eyes slipped open, blinking over at Erik curiously. He saw its nose twitching in the frigid air. For a moment, it wasn’t even afraid of him.

Erik bared his teeth and lunged, closing the distance between himself and the animal with trained speed. The seal barked, shocked, and tried to wiggle away from him- but it was not so graceful on land as it was in the water, and so it wasn’t fast enough to escape the net closing in over its head.

Erik flung himself down upon the seal’s body, pinning it to the ice under the net. It writhed beneath him, not agile enough to do anything but further entangle itself, letting out high, panicked cries.

“Excellent!” Shaw called, trotting across the ice to Erik and the seal. “You never fail to impress, son.”

This wasn’t true, of course- Erik bore the compliment like it was a weight, grinding his teeth together to keep his tongue from retaliating. Shaw knelt beside the animal, drawing from his pouch a long, ugly-looking knife.

“Keep still,” he said, still with that same hollow smile. “It will be over before you know it.”

Erik wondered if that had been directed at him, or the crying thing in his arms.

~

Erik collapsed in bed that night, his limbs aching from the afternoon’s work. It hadn’t been quick, after all- Shaw hadn’t slit the seal’s throat, like Erik had been expecting. Instead he had skinned it _alive,_ cutting it from head to tail while it whimpered and screamed, peeling the skin back to sever the layer of soft fur and thick blubber from the exposed red muscle underneath. Erik hadn’t asked him why. That was not the sort of thing people asked the chieftain of Clan Shaw.

After a while, the seal had stopped struggling, and eventually it had stopped crying, too- by then both the men and the ice and been slick with copious amounts of hot blood. Shaw had detached the skin completely, withdrawing it from the net, and then Erik had dragged the carcass to the water’s edge- the unnaturally small, contorted remains were surprisingly light without the skin. Shaw hadn’t taken the seal’s eyelids, so its eyes- thankfully- had been closed; Erik assumed it had died at some point during the ugly process. Without being asked, Erik had set its bloody head to face North, hoping quietly that its spirit would have a better journey in death than it had had in life- presumably, birds or other predators would eat the meat, and then the pitiful thing would be free.

The rest of the day had been spent dragging the fat-heavy skin back to the village to be treated and preserved, and then returning home to wash the blood from his clothes. He hadn’t eaten any of the blubber when it was warm, like Shaw had- he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. There was no reason to waste resources on himself. He hadn’t had the stomach for food after the skinning, anyway- for some reason, the act had affected him more with its brutality than usual hunts.

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his belly. He needed to rest, there would be more work to do tomorrow. A seal would not sustain the entire village, and he was a hunter, after all. This day would have to be put out of his mind, like so many others- such tricks of the memory were the only way he could survive.

~

The next morning, Erik woke with the dawn as it peered through the window of his cottage. His nose was numb, and he smelled only the barren scent of deep winter. No, it would be a while before the prosperities of other seasons would arrive. Still, he hoped more usual prey would make itself available- he didn’t want to have to repeat yesterday’s task.

Erik rose and dressed, setting two pots to heat over the hearth- one he filled with snow, to have warm water to wash himself in, and in the other he ladled some half-frozen fish broth to make up his breakfast. A strengthening, if not filling, meal.

He did not wait inside for these things to warm- he had never been the type to enjoy sitting still. After ensuring that the fire was safely contained, he went out, making his way down the slope from the cottage towards the beach. This wasn’t always where he went for early-morning walks- but something morbid seemed to draw him there this time. Though, he wouldn’t be able to see the spot where the seal had been killed, not without walking a great distance.

Erik looked out across the ice- moving water could be seen if one looked far enough into the horizon. The rising sun turned this distant, oceanic world to a shimmering gold- in some places to look upon it was blinding. Erik wondered just how far the horizon stretched. Was there really an edge to the world, as some people said, a place where the water fell away into the stars? Would one reach Ultimathula before this, or after? He supposed it didn’t matter. The only boats he had ever been in were for fishing, small and unequipped for such long voyages. There was no sense in dreaming of escape, he had known that for some time now.

Erik looked away from the water, back at the gray, rocky beach he walked upon. This was a solid world, here, simple but familiar. The only movement was that of the dead marram grass as it stirred in the early-morning wind-

-with a sudden shock, Erik’s eyes fell upon something strange, something so out of place from his expectations that he physically startled. Then, once his senses had recovered from the jolt he began to run forward, calling out as he did so.

There was a body on the beach. A prone, motionless, naked _human body._

“Hey!” Erik closed the distance between himself and the other, his surprise replaced by concern. “Are you alright-?”

Up close, he saw now that the body was that of a young man, his pale, ice-white skin eerily unblemished by scars of wound or time or strain. He lay upon the rocks like he was sleeping, eyes closed and red lips slightly parted, and if not for the slow rising and falling of his chest Erik would have assumed him surely dead. When he did not respond, Erik knelt beside him, putting a hand to his chest- his skin was cold, but not dangerously so, and also unbearably soft.

(That was a silly thing to notice in this situation, though, so Erik put the thought out of his head, along with another unwelcome murmur: that the young man had an obviously pretty face.)

“Hey,” Erik tried again, shaking the sleeper’s shoulder slightly. He did not see any sign of trauma- no blood under those brown curls to indicate a head injury, no bruises on that fine white throat to suggest strangulation. No explanation, in short, for why this person- this _stranger,_ Erik realized, he had never seen him before in his life- was lying naked on a beach in mid-winter, looking in every other way a victim of murder.

When the shaking became more insistent, the stranger’s brow furrowed, and he let out a quiet moan. Alive for certain, then. Bright blue eyes flicked open, looking up at Erik’s face with an empty expression, and then out across the beach. Slowly, he began to sit up, and Erik helped him, putting a hand on the other man’s back.

“Are you alright?” Erik asked again, and the stranger looked back at him, but said nothing. A hand came up in between them, and to Erik’s shock cold fingers found his cheek, tracing over the line of his jaw and then his lower lip. The other man was still silent, but he frowned, the corners of his too-red mouth turning down. Erik wondered if he was mad- that might explain some of this, but not all. Where in the world had he come from? No one could survive a winter night in such a place, and with no clothes…

“Yes,” said the stranger suddenly, his hand dropping back to his own lap. He seemed just as surprised as Erik was by the sound of his own voice. “Yes, I suppose I am. Alright, that is.”

“Where did you come from?” Erik asked him then- he clearly wasn’t a member of Shaw’s clan, since Erik didn’t recognize him. But there was some distance to the territories of their other nearest neighbours- no explanation, still, for this mysterious appearance.

“Oh, elsewhere,” said the stranger dreamily. “Out there.”

Erik concluded that, regardless of how he had come to be on the beach, the stranger clearly _was_ mad. There was no helping it, then- he would freeze to death if left out here for too long. Erik would take him home, and if anyone was looking for him, they would surely make themselves known sooner or later.

“Come on, then,” Erik said, trying to sound soothing (he had no experience with the sick, not really). “Let’s get you up...you can walk, can’t you?”

The stranger looked up at him in surprise.

“No,” he said. “Or I mean- I’ve never _tried.”_

He looked back down at his own haphazardly arranged legs, turning his head at them curiously. Erik frowned. He had heard of such things- there had been an old man in his youth whose backbone had broken in an accident, and he had been unable to walk even after the injury had healed. But if this was the case, it was going to be a lot harder than expected to get him to safety.

“Can you move your toes?” Erik asked him. The stranger hummed, and then when the digits in question wiggled, he laughed. So- not paralyzed, then.

“Then you can walk,” Erik told him firmly. “Come on, give it a try- I’ll help you.”

He threaded his arms under the stranger’s shoulders, and when no move was made to rise on his own hoisted him up to a standing position. The other man whooped, a strangely joyous noise, but his knees buckled immediately, and he caught himself by hastily wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck.

“Oh, I don’t know about this,” he chirped, though he still sounded gleeful. “It’s all very _new.”_

His legs, Erik saw, were trembling, and he thought of this to ignore how the stranger’s chest was pressed to him, how his warm breath touched his cheek. With some exasperation (perhaps, more directed at himself) Erik adjusted their position so that they both faced forward, one of his arms wrapped about the stranger’s slender waist, the other holding the wrist that still lay limply across his shoulder.

“One step at a time,” he said, rather gruffly, taking the initiative with his own feet. The stranger looked down between them, watching closely as they made a shuffling path across the beach, back the way Erik had come- slowly, his imitations improved, and by the time they were climbing the slope to Erik’s cottage he was mostly holding his own weight, though his gait was still uneven. Erik helped him inside, and without asking the stranger flopped down on his bed (though in his defence, the homestead was only one small room- there wasn’t anywhere else to sit) kicking his newly-working legs in the air behind him.

“What happened to the other one, anyway?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Erik. Even here, in the relative dim of indoors, the blue in his eyes was brilliant. 

“The other one?” Erik said, not understanding in the slightest. He checked his pots- the fish broth was bubbling slightly, hot enough hopefully to warm someone up.

“The one with the knife,” the stranger continued lightly. “The one who killed your mother.”

The ladle Erik had been using to stir the broth dropped back into the pot, and Erik’s head whipped around to stare at the other man in shock. 

_“What did you just say?”_ he hissed. The stranger flinched, cringing away into the covers on Erik’s bed like a dog whose master had raised his voice.

“But- you _knew_ that,” he said anxiously, biting his lower lip. “You knew- you _hate_ him! The entire time, you were wishing he would die- I understand, he’s very cruel...and what he _did_ to you…”

“How do you know this?” Erik said, trying to control his voice. The look of fear in the stranger’s eyes had not brought him any pleasure, not the way it would Shaw.

“I can see it inside your head,” the stranger muttered meekly, his fingers winding into the fur beneath him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Erik replied, though he didn’t know why. He had a fearful thought- this encounter had suddenly taken a turn for the fey; of course, he shouldn’t have assumed someone so fair and eerie and beautiful to be _human_...but there was one way of finding out for sure.

“What’s your name?” Erik asked, and the stranger looked back up at him hopefully.

“Charles,” he said, without any hesitation. Erik huffed, stumped. It was not so strange a name, after all- and a fairy would not have offered such information so readily, without any attempt at bargain.

“Okay, Charles,” he said, trying out the sound on his tongue. No terrible magic occured- the stranger (no, _Charles)_ just looked over at him from the bed, his eyes wide and hopeful. “You can see things inside my head?”

“Yes, of course,” Charles replied, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Then...what do you know about me?” Erik asked. Charles shrugged a shoulder, smiling slightly.

“Everything,” was his reply.

~

Erik had shared half of the fish broth with Charles, and then the other man had fallen asleep, curled up under the furs on Erik’s bed. Erik hadn’t exactly told him he could, but there didn’t seem to be any stopping him- and besides, he had surely been through some ordeal, ending up on the beach like that. Erik still wasn’t entirely convinced that he was human- it wasn’t natural, to see inside people’s heads- but maybe he was the son of a witch or some other such thing. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but Erik didn’t think he meant any harm.

With Charles sleeping Erik went into the village to see what needed to be done. He found that Shaw was organizing a fishing party for the day from the various tradesmen, those who hadn’t any work to do more important than finding the food to stop their families from starving. Erik looked around- he did not see anyone unusual, and Shaw made no mention of travellers or missing persons in his announcement. If anyone was looking for Charles, then, they hadn’t come here. Erik didn’t entertain the notion of telling Shaw what he had found for even an instant- vaguely, and for no good reason, the thought of those bright blue eyes landing on another man put an irrational worm of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. Instead, silent, he went to collect his fishing gear.

“Oh, no, not you,” Shaw called after him, beckoning him back. “You did good work yesterday, Erik, today you can rest. But-”

The welcoming smile on Shaw’s face froze, showing a few too many teeth.

“-whatever you do, _don’t go near the beach._ Understood?”

Erik agreed with only a nod, and Shaw patted him on the back, sending him on his way.

~

The day passed slowly- Erik, as a member of Shaw’s specialized hunting team, would usually never be set loose to do something without his chieftain's oversight. He found he did not much enjoy the ‘leisure’. For the very same reason he was so close to Shaw, he was distanced from everyone else- the eyes of the villagers turned away from him, fearful of his strength and position. Unlike some of the others in this ‘special circle’- Janos, Azazel, the wise woman Emma- Erik did not much enjoy this.

Still, he managed to keep himself busy, and ended up spending most of the day helping the shipwright’s son Alex repair a craft he had destroyed. Erik knew this boy only slightly, and mostly by reputation- he seemed to have an uncanny ability for causing hugely damaging accidents. As they worked side by side- mostly without speaking, Alex was as frightened by him as anyone- Erik supposed this meant he might be safe from Shaw’s particular forms of...improvement. He was likely too clumsy to be considered for a position in the chieftain’s inner circle, and for that he should think himself lucky.

Shaw’s fishing party returned to the village in the early evening, and with terribly meagre pickings. The chieftain’s face was tight with displeasure. He didn’t see Erik watching him from the crowd- small mercies.

Erik returned to the outskirts of the village after that, to his home, remembering only on the way that something would have to be done for his unusual guest- if Charles was even still there, and hadn’t been a strange dream. To his surprise, when he arrived the stone chimney was smoking, and a laundry line had been put out with his clothes from the day he had killed the seal (bloodstained, he had been soaking them in snow, but had suspected they would need to be taken to the washerwoman). Inside, his surprise was even greater- he had never been an untidy person, necessarily, but still he was unmarried and a huntsman, so he only kept house as was needed. As such, it was strange to see the cottage in such a state- his few possessions had all been neatly arranged, the floor swept and hearth cleaned, the table and pots all somehow polished so they looked almost new. The air smelled of something delicious cooking, and perched delicately on the floor before a bubbling pot was Charles, who looked cheerfully up at Erik as he entered. He was only wearing one of Erik’s undershirts, which was slightly too big, settling high on his thighs- even though he had already seen the man naked, something about this sight sent a spark of heat straight from Erik’s eyes to his groin, and he had to look away.

“Hello, Erik,” Charles said cheerfully. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Err, yes,” Erik said, taking off his boots to cross the floor and sit at the table (something he usually never bothered with- but it seemed rude to dirty the place after Charles had obviously cleaned it). “You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I should,” Charles replied, and he ladled a hefty portion of his mixture into a bowl, putting it down before Erik on the table. “After all, I’m _yours_ now.”

Erik startled in his chair at that, but Charles’ words were banished from his mind at the sight of the bowl- contained in it was obviously a stew, thick with chunks of white meat and dark greens. Erik hadn’t had many supplies about the house- certainly he hadn’t had any _vegetables_ (though, when lifting it into his spoon, Erik couldn’t have said exactly what kind of vegetable it was). Still, he hadn’t seen a meal like this in _moons._

“Where did you get this?” he asked, with no small amount of wonder. Charles only shrugged. Erik had a thought- perhaps that meant the meal was _magic-_ but Charles had spooned himself some too, and it smelled so good his stomach ached, reminding him of its emptiness- so he threw reasonable caution to the winds and tucked in.

When he was done (which seemed to have come about too quickly) Charles picked up his bowl and set to washing it in the basin in the corner, as always, completely unprompted. Erik tried not to look at the slender white thighs peeking out from under his shirt- but it was hard not to. What, exactly, had Charles said? That he was ‘Erik’s’, now? Suddenly, the room which had been comfortably warm felt nearly too hot.

“Are you planning to stay here?” Erik asked him after a while. He kept asking questions- he still didn’t understand. Charles looked back at him, and for the first time his pretty eyes held within them something dark.

 _“‘Planning’?”_ Charles echoed. “No, I wouldn’t say that. But I _will-_ you’ve guaranteed that much.”

“Don’t you have...a family?” Erik continued. “Someone who will be looking for you?”

“I do,” Charles replied, and set the dishes away in the cupboard Erik himself hardly used, turning back with a rueful smile. “But don’t worry. They already know what happened to me.”

Erik made a fist on the table and looked down at it, running his thumb over his first knuckle. He had a feeling he had been embroiled in something decidedly unusual. But despite that, he wasn’t really afraid- Charles had only done him good so far, and there was nothing about him that seemed...wicked. Erik didn’t think he was going to wake up with his voice stolen or his heart eaten out.

“Alright,” he said, and he rapped his knuckles on the table. “Well...let me know if you...need anything.”

A silly thing to say- a _dangerous_ thing, possibly, a fairy could absolutely take such terms as binding- but Erik flushed not from this and instead because he had locked eyes with Charles again, Charles who was so very good-looking, who was wearing almost nothing...Erik was warm and dry, his belly full, for the first time in a long time all of his physical needs were sated, except...for one.

A lazy smile curved up the ends of Charles’ lips, and only then did Erik remember that everything he thought was on display. He looked away, cursing himself. 

Somehow, without making a single sound, Charles had crossed the floor of the cottage- Erik became aware of this through the sensation of soft lips pressing to his cheek. When he startled, he inadvertently turned his mouth into the kiss, and Charles seemed to think this action entirely intentional because he moaned, his hands coming up to cup Erik’s face.

“Hey,” Erik said, breaking the kiss. Charles’ eyes were unbearably close to his, bluer than the summer sky and burning. “I don’t- I mean, I haven’t-”

“Well, I _have,”_ Charles replied, and he kissed again, and this time it was Erik making inadvertent noises. Charles hummed into the kiss and without breaking it guided Erik to his feet, leading him blindly across the floor before pushing him down onto the bed. The smile Charles gave him then was very wicked indeed, but Erik didn’t think he could put a stop to it even if he wanted to- clever fingers picked their way over his torso and before he realized it his shirt was gone, dropping indelicately on the floor in a puddle. Erik closed his eyes, feeling warm hands run over his shoulders and chest, palms pressing on his stomach to lay him back on the bed.

“You’re so handsome, Erik,” Charles purred, breath hot on his ear. “I’m very _lucky.”_

Erik would have said something in response, perhaps, but suddenly the rest of his clothes were gone with the shirt- magic again, perhaps?- and Charles kissed him once more, quick and wet, before his mouth moved...elsewhere.

Erik let out an aborted swear, biting down on his own hand, which had flown up to his mouth. Charles smirked at him, and ran his tongue up the side of Erik’s cock again, a slow, wet stripe. Erik almost wanted to protest- he had only met this man this morning, it seemed like far too much to ask- but Charles, full of fey mischief, only winked at him and took the head into his mouth, swallowing it down into his throat.

Erik’s head slammed back against his pillow, and he was sure he made a noise but didn’t hear it, his own ears thundering with the sound of his heartbeat. Charles sucked, his lips sliding up the length of Erik’s shaft, and Erik- more on instinct than anything- grabbed a fistful of Charles’ soft hair, for which he received an indulgent moan. He shouldn’t look- it was impossible not to look- Charles blinked up at him, taking his cock down again, his cheeks red and his lips impossibly redder. With a groan, Erik turned away again, and he could have sworn the stifled little sound Charles made was a laugh.

With an obscenely wet noise Charles released him from the unimaginable pressure of his throat, pressing a chaste kiss to the head of Erik’s cock before sitting up, licking his lips in a way that made Erik wonder if he really was going to die, after all. With a grin (probably hearing that) Charles tossed aside his own shirt and scooted up the bed so his head was nearly level with Erik’s, flopping down on the covers with his back against Erik’s side. In this motion, Erik caught a glimpse of Charles’ own member- flushed pink and ready- and he had to take several deep breaths to steady himself.

“Come on, then,” Charles said cheerfully, looking back at Erik. When Erik demonstrably didn’t understand, he lifted one leg, running his fingers across the smooth skin of his inner thighs before pressing them together again, looking at Erik expectantly.

Erik swore out loud, but obliged- how could he not, he was probably under a spell- turning onto his side so his stomach was flush with Charles’ back. His first wary assumption was that something else would be needed to slick the way, but as he pushed forward it became clear that was not the case- perhaps Charles’ spit had done the job, or maybe it was bloody _magic,_ what did he know? He let out a shaking breath against Charles’ neck, fortifying himself, before pushing all the way between those soft white thighs. This all seemed thoroughly impossible. He hadn’t thought it could feel this good.

Charles let out a soft huff of laughter, his fingers reaching up behind him to train through Erik’s hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. And if anything was powder to a fire, it was that- with a growl Erik thrust again, the friction sending lightning up his spine, his arms helplessly coiling around Charles’ waist to steady him. 

As he moved Erik’s mind was flooded by a million things- the feeling of Charles’ heartbeat under his palm, the sweet scent of his skin, the swell of his ass that pushed back against Erik’s hips. Fumblingly, Erik wrapped a hand around Charles’ cock, and the delighted gasp that warranted was reward enough to make Erik feel crazy himself, thrusting into that warm, slick heat and trying foolishly to reciprocate until Charles was coming, coming and _laughing,_ his back arching and his head rubbing back against Erik’s chin.

That was the end of him- Charles had clamped down even harder than before in his climax, and so Erik was sent hurtling over the same cliff at a height he hadn’t previously thought possible, the world turning white around the edges for one long, molten moment.

He came back to himself out of breath, leaving clumsy kisses on Charles’ neck, and his consolation was that Charles was panting, too, his body sweat-slick where it pressed back against Erik. The grip of his thighs had loosened though, probably for good, but still Erik couldn’t dream of letting him go.

“I’ll clean up,” Charles mumbled, propping himself up on an elbow, and Erik tightened his grip on the other man’s chest.

“Don’t,” he groaned, his eyes closed and face pressed between Charles’ shoulder blades. “Don’t go.”

“Alright, then,” Charles replied, and Erik thought he heard him smile. “I won’t.”

The fire in the hearth had put itself out sometime during their lovemaking, and now the room was comfortably dark, so content in the knowledge that Charles would stay, Erik let himself drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

As always, Erik woke with the dawn, but for the first time in a very, very long time, it was to the breathing of someone else. Slowly, the pieces of the previous day came back to him- he had met a strange person on the beach, saved him _(claimed_ him?), come home to a clean house and a hot meal, and then...well.

Erik took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Charles’ skin against his own- they had not moved much from last night’s embrace, his nose was pressed close to the small protrusion of bone at the base of Charles’ neck. He hadn’t felt this warm in a long time, either. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve a gift like this. 

Erik tried to rise without waking Charles, untangling himself from those smooth limbs with care, but Charles stirred anyway, blue eyes blinking up at Erik and red lips shifting into a yawn. Stunned by this vision, Erik only watched as Charles stretched, the muscles in his chest and belly flexing in a slow wave, his arms resting above his head.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Charles told him when he was done, and he kissed Erik’s stupefied lips. “Just hold on.”

Erik let himself be put back down into the covers, and watched with no small amount of awe as Charles went about the room naked, fixing something up in a pot with ingredients that Erik was fairly sure hadn’t been there before. He supposed, dully, that _this_ was why people got married. He had never really understood the appeal until now.

“Of course, we _are_ married,” Charles said primly as he set their breakfast upon the table. “You saw to it quite effectively.”

And even if Erik didn’t entirely understand, he didn’t think he was going to protest, either.

~

Time passed in a daze. Erik went out to hunt and work every day, but told no one of what had happened to him. Part of it was undoubtedly jealousy- he did not want to share this secret, especially not with those who would be most interested, but occasionally Erik would look at Charles and wonder if he had been _charmed._ Charles was unlike anyone he had ever known, and he never really said why he was there- why he had chosen to stay with _Erik,_ of all men. If Erik ever asked, he acted like the answer was obvious, and Erik couldn’t make him say anything more.

In the mornings, before rising, Erik watched Charles sleep- the slow rising of his chest was so peaceful, the soft expression on his face captivating. The rosy light of the sun at this time of day turned his skin to gold. Erik would reach out to brush a thumb lightly across his plush lower lip- or his cheek, his eyelid, his collarbone- and Charles would wake, fixing Erik in place with those incredible blue eyes and a slow, sweet smile.

If that was when the spell was cast, Erik had no hope of ever breaking it.

~

Erik grew accustomed to all of Charles’ idiosyncrasies- how he turned his head and pursed his lips when he was thinking, the way his eyebrows raised when he was amused, how he was easily distracted by ocean wind or the distant sound of gulls calling. He never wore shoes of any kind, and he always fell asleep before Erik did at night. When sitting, he often rubbed absently at a knee or ankle, and only after some time of seeing this did Erik learn that it meant he was in _pain._

The discovery happened as such:

Charles lay on the bed with one leg in the air, massaging the sides of his shin with a frown on his face. Erik sat beside him and, drawn in as always by the sight of his bare skin, pressed a tentative kiss to the crown of his knee.

“Is something the matter?” he asked softly, inhaling that ever-sweet smell that he now only associated with Charles.

“My legs,” Charles replied with a petulant little sigh. Now it was Erik’s turn to frown.

“Did you hurt yourself somewhere?” he asked, leaning back slightly to inspect- but as always, Charles’ smooth white skin was perfectly unblemished, almost unnaturally so. It was too easy to get distracted, faced with a vision like this- even with his brow furrowed in discomfort, Charles was the most beautiful person Erik had ever seen.

“No,” Charles replied, and he kicked gently at Erik’s chest. “Nothing like that. Kiss me again, it felt good.”

Indulgently, Erik pressed his lips to the same place as before, looking up at him. Charles turned his head to the side, the corners of his lips beginning to curl, and he tapped his fingers playfully on a spot at the top of his shin.

“Here, too.”

Erik snorted softly, but obliged, slowly tracing that long, white line all the way down to Charles’ ankle with his mouth. When he arrived there he gave particular affection to the small round of bone on the inside, laving over it lightly with his tongue. Charles giggled, his usual good mood clearly restored, and slung his other leg over Erik’s shoulder.

“You’ll have to do them both,” he claimed in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Otherwise I’ll be completely unbalanced.”

“Are you sure that’s where you want to be kissed?” Erik asked him lowly- Charles hardly ever wore anything, and so certain _stirring interests_ of his were always easily apparent. Charles raised his eyebrows seriously, tapping his heel on Erik’s back.

“After,” he said, lips parting in a small yawn. “This one still hurts. You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

Erik smiled at him, and set to work.

~

Charles spun across the ice in the light of the sunrise, his arms outstretched at his sides, his breath forming clouds in the air. The look in his eyes was rapturous. Erik wanted to tell him to be careful not to fall, but the words were taken from him completely by the sight. With a whoop Charles jumped, and for an instant he was suspended in the air, as beautiful and free as a bird. Somehow, his frail legs caught him when he landed, and though Erik winced Charles only laughed, like he felt no pain.

Bare feet on the frozen ocean- Charles looked like a wild thing.

~ 

Erik came home early one afternoon, and Charles was putting up the laundry to dry in the sun. He was wearing too little, as always- despite the chill still clinging to the winter air, he had only slung a wrap about himself to keep warm. The sight of him- cheeks pink and hair ruffled by the wind, lips enclosed around a pair of pins, blue eyes clear in concentration- was, as always, unimaginably alluring. Erik stopped on the path a moment to watch, tucking himself behind a tree to enjoy being unnoticed- a chance to watch the natural movement of those graceful pale limbs. It was strange- Charles seemed entirely adept in every household task except for _dressing himself;_ as he worked the tartan he had so haphazardly tied to his figure would slip down over his shoulder, exposing the fine bones under his skin and, absently, he would right it before resuming his efforts on the laundry line. In short, he was beautiful. With a grin, Erik slipped between the trees, keeping his approach silent on trained skills- playing a small game, that of hunter and hunted.

Once closer, he could hear that Charles was humming a song to himself, the melody of which was decidedly unfamiliar- it bore no resemblance to anything Erik had ever heard, not in taverns nor at funerals nor as lullabies. Though everything else about the scene was sweetly innocent and domestic, something about the song was unsettling- it made Erik’s hair rise on the back of his neck.

Charles stopped humming abruptly, freezing in place. Then, taking the pins out of his mouth with a wry grin, he called:

“I can hear you, Erik! Where are you hiding?”

Raising his hands in surrender, Erik stepped out from the trees, taking his last few steps openly down the path.

“How?” he asked, genuinely curious. “I’m very quiet- there are wolves who have not heard my approach.”

Charles smirked and tapped his temple with two fingers, and Erik understood. That was something he still was not entirely used to. Magic.

“What was that song, then?” he asked, after giving Charles a quick kiss on the lips in greeting. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“I should hope not,” Charles replied. “It’s a siren wedding song. Dreadful things, they are. Would eat _you_ up in a heartbeat.”

...and Erik did not know what to say to that. So instead of saying anything, he picked up one of the undergarments from the washing pile, and set to pinning it on the line. Charles only scolded him briefly- _‘that’s my job, you know’-_ and the rest of the afternoon passed in comfortable peace.

~

Charles let out a long, wailing moan, burying his face in his arms, which were folded across the table before him. Erik’s entire body shuddered at the sound, and no less at the sensation- that of his cock being buried _inside Charles,_ in a place where he had legitimately never even considered to go. Breathless with that slick, hot pressure he had to close his eyes, steadying himself with one hand on the edge of the table, the other tight around Charles’ hip. He was able to keep himself there for a moment before Charles made another noise, rolling his hips back, forcing Erik impossibly deeper.

 _“Move,”_ Charles whined, looking back over his shoulder at Erik, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. “For heaven’s sake, Erik-”

As obedient as always (how could he not be?) Erik drew his hips back and then pushed in close, the feeling snatching his breath from him as Charles cried out again. Dizzily, he found he was glad his house was so well removed from the rest of the village- the thought of anyone else hearing the obscene noises that fell from Charles’ lips was unbearable.

Erik tried to move gently at first, unable to take his eyes away from the curve in Charles’ back, how his body shifted with every slow thrust, how he rolled and twisted and opened to _accommodate Erik,_ the thought of which made him weak with arousal. The whimpers and gasps dragged from him with each movement were almost unbelievable; Erik thought feverishly that he had a treasure in his hands, and he didn’t know if he was enough to pay it back, if he could even articulate this feeling welling up inside his chest. He had never been this way with anyone before- never felt anything like this- he was entirely consumed and did not want to be anything else, his mind filled with nothing but Charles, Charles, _Charles…_

“I love you too, Erik,” Charles said into the table with a groan. “But, harder, _please…”_

Erik obliged as best as he could, snapping his hips forward with more force, and Charles let out a delighted little squeak, tensing around Erik’s cock in a way that made the world fade to white before his eyes for a moment. Charles said the most incredible things like this, broken words bubbling up to his lips between moans, the sound of each one sending a heat through Erik’s body that made him feel half-mad.

“Yes, like that, _ugh-_ right _there-_ come on, Erik, _ah!”_

Erik folded himself over Charles’ body, feeling Charles’ spine arch up against his belly and pressing desperate kisses to his shoulder blades and the back of his neck. No breath he took seemed capable of lending him enough air, yet he tried to give Charles everything he asked for, taking his thrusts deeper and faster into that tight, incredible heat. Charles’ legs began to shake, Erik could feel it as he felt everything and his fingers pressed into the curves of Charles’ hips in a desperate bid to keep him upright. Vaguely, he wondered if the table was going to break- but there was no controlling that.

Charles came with a particularly wild cry, and Erik felt every pulse of the release against his own cock, Charles’ body tightening and clenching in waves. Erik had not imagined that such a thing would happen and, dizzily, he buried himself inside to feel it all, his mouth open against the soft skin on Charles’ back. Charles’ legs really did give out during this, and Erik caught him, the strain in his arms only serving a welcome counterpoint to the pleasure running through his veins.

“Oh, _yes,”_ Charles gasped weakly. “I’m glad you found me first. You are _so_ good at this.”

Erik shook his head- he didn’t know how that was true- and Charles just chuckled.

“Come on, then,” he chirped, looking back at Erik again with a terrible lust in his eyes. _“Finish inside me.”_

Erik made some wordless, animal noise, and did as he was told.

~

Charles stood, naked and silent, by the laundry line in the dim light that came through the rain clouds, looking out at the ocean. In its distance gray, turmoiled waves could be seen writhing, whipped up by the wind of the coming storm. The expression on his face was unmistakably one of _longing._

Erik took him by the shoulders- he should come in, the rain was so cold it was nearly ice, and judging by the state of the clouds the weather was only going to worsen. If Charles were to fall ill from such a thing, Erik wouldn’t know what to do. If Charles were to fall ill and _die…_

“I won’t _die,”_ Charles said with some exasperation, his gaze slowly turned from the water to Erik’s face. “I’m just sulking. This weather is terrible fun- all the others are playing without me.”

“...the others like you?” Erik asked, tentative. Charles smiled at him dreamily- his skin was white and glistening with the rainwater, his hair darkened almost to black and plastered to his head. His eyes were so wide and bright and _hard_ they looked like crystal, the lips beneath them so red they could have been stained with blood. Raindrops had collected in his eyelashes and across his cheeks, glittering there, suspended in time. He had never looked less human.

“Exactly,” Charles purred, his head curved back to settle on Erik’s shoulder. He leaned in for a kiss, and Erik couldn’t stop him.

In its wake, though, he let himself be led inside and dried off by the fire, Erik wrapping him in furs and holding him tight. For the first time, he had a fear that if he let go Charles would disappear- dissolve into mist or sea foam, leaving their home forever. He wondered if his arms would be strong enough to keep him there.

~

Charles woke in the night with a yelp, and so Erik woke with him, his embrace around the other man challenged by the sudden movement. Charles was sitting up in bed, his chest shuddering with heavy breaths, and beside him Erik stirred, head fuzzy still from sleep.

“Charles?” Erik asked blearily, and Charles turned to him for an instant, eyes taking on a strangely glacial colour in the dark. Then with a whimper he jerked away, stumbling from the bed into the shadows of the room as though something in the sheets had stung him. He didn’t make it far- though he seemed to head for the door, his legs gave out beneath him after that first desperate leap, and he collapsed on the stone floor.

_“Charles,”_ Erik repeated, awake enough now to be thoroughly concerned. He swung himself over the side of the bed and knelt beside Charles who was making a soft, high keening sound, his entire body trembling. At Erik’s touch Charles flinched, baring his teeth like an animal, and there was no recognition in those huge blue eyes at all.

Erik sat back, holding his palms up to show he meant no harm. His own heart was beating too quickly, unable to reconcile the calm night around them and Charles’ obvious terror. The other man shivered, eyes darting back and forth across Erik’s face and around the room. After a long moment of this- Erik’s own breath held- understanding seemed to dawn on him, and with a shuddering sigh he came back to himself, putting his cheek down on the floor.

“Erik,” he murmured, looking up at him at last, and Erik nodded, gently reaching a hand out to touch Charles’ head. He was not stopped this time, and by petting that soft hair in slow, even strokes Charles began to relax, his breaths steadying in his chest.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Charles continued at length, still facedown on the floor. “It was only a nightmare.”

“It’s alright,” Erik told him, trying not to let any of his own discomfort show. “Come back to bed. I’m here now.”

Charles hummed faintly at that, a rueful little smile touching his lips, and as he sat up his legs gave several spasms, as though readjusting to being put to use. Erik helped him into the bed, kissing his chilled cheek and the side of his mouth, lifting his quivering knees under the covers when Charles didn’t seem to have the strength to do so himself. When they were both settled again he held Charles close, tucking his head under his chin, as though he could protect him from whatever he had seen in his dream.

“You can tell me, if you want,” Erik murmured- remembering what his mother had done when he was a child, when he had had nightmares of his own.

“No need,” Charles replied quietly. “It’s over now.”

Erik kissed him once more on the forehead, and Charles sighed, curling in close against Erik’s chest. He fell asleep again fairly quickly, but Erik stayed awake a little longer, watching the worry on that white brow slowly fade into peace. His own worry did not leave so easily. There were still so many things he didn’t understand- and this no longer made him afraid for himself (for his soul and well-being, should this be a malicious spirit) but rather for _Charles,_ who he did not want to see in any kind of pain. What was it, that Charles had said so casually? _I love you, too._

‘Too’.

Perhaps his heart really had been stolen from him, after all.

~

The approach of spring was still distant on the horizon- though rainfall became more common than snow. The people had put the blubber of the seal to good use- one happy thing that had come from that event, perhaps. Erik had seen the grateful faces on the families as they collected their fat, knowing that it contained the vitality to bring their weakest family members back from starvation.

Shaw’s mood did not improve with the clan’s conditions. Something bothered him, Erik saw- he often went into long, private council with the wise woman, Emma, and was quicker to snap at the more vulnerable members of his population. Erik wondered the same thing that everyone did- would someone be put to death, this time? It had been a few years since Shaw had set any examples _(examples,_ like Erik’s mother). Perhaps his patience with the idea of being a ‘fatherly’ chieftain was running thin- Erik knew better than most that it was a veneer.

One afternoon Erik was called into Shaw’s personal dwelling; a much larger stone house than Erik’s own, central to the village, and better outfitted as well. Trophies lined the walls- antlers from old hunts, mainly- including a finely preserved sealskin, pinned up across the fireplace. That one, of course, was new.

“You’ve been looking well, Erik,” said Shaw, beckoning him to sit. Erik didn’t like the look of this; Emma was the only other person in the room, her cold eyes flicking between him and the chieftain, as calculating as a cat. Erik hadn’t been so alone with Shaw in weeks- without the others of the inner circle (Janos, Azazel, Tempest- the killers, like him) Erik had largely been ignored since the killing of the seal. Erik hoped this trepidation didn’t show on his face, and he inclined his head to Shaw, sitting down on the seat opposite him.

“Surprisingly well, in fact,” Shaw continued. “Been taking a little more than your share, perhaps?”

With one hand he gestured up and down Erik’s body, and Erik felt a chill at the implication.

“Of course not,” he replied, as calmly as he could manage. This was the truth- more than the truth. He hadn’t been taking _any_ shares of the food he caught or that was scrounged up by others; Charles had been making all of the meals. There was no need to deprive others when Erik had enough- but he realized suddenly that it probably didn’t look that way. He hadn’t been paying attention to himself, but _of course_ he had gained back weight when no one else had, perhaps he should have been more _careful…_

“Really,” Shaw said with a hollow grin. “So you haven’t taken _anything_ that doesn’t belong to you?”

“...I don’t understand what you mean,” Erik said stiffly. His hands were tightly clasped before his knees. Shaw continued to watch him, and he met the older man’s gaze, though it was difficult to stand it. Slowly, Shaw stood, putting down the cup he had been drinking from. Erik leaned back- was he to be dismissed? it seemed too easy- and before he could fully register the motion Shaw’s fist connected with his cheek, snapping his neck to the side.

The shock of it flashed bright across Erik’s eyes, and in its wake came the pain- sharp, then dull and throbbing. He tasted blood on his tongue.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Erik,” Shaw said, and he took Erik’s chin in hand, twisting his head back up so that Erik had to look at him. “I’m very proud of how far you’ve come. But I can’t have you hiding things from me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Erik grunted, his teeth clenched tightly together. Shaw smiled again, as genuine as such a face ever was on him.

“Then, do you have anything you want to tell me?” he asked. His grip on Erik’s chin was tight enough to hurt, the ends of his fingernails digging into the skin- there would probably be a mark.

“No,” Erik replied, his voice more of a growl than before. A hot wave of hatred filled him from the inside out- for a moment, he thought of retaliating, of slapping Shaw’s hand away and striking him back, hitting him over and over and over, until his face was a pulp and everything that had been done to Erik’s mother had been returned tenfold-

His muscles actually tensed, his body ready to launch forward, and then from across the room Emma made a tiny noise- little more than a clearing of her throat. In that moment, the killing instinct in Erik died; his limbs went limp, all of them suddenly cold, and he had the impression of being doused in ice water. Shaw released him with a little laugh, sitting back down on the chair opposite Erik, crossing his legs in good spirit.

Erik shook himself, and folded his own hands before himself again. That was always what happened- whenever Erik’s anger pushed him to make that move (to take that death he had so often dreamt of) his courage would fail in the last second. He was never strong enough to see it through. The flood of self-disgust he felt after such instances always hurt worse than any physical pain; just then, Erik barely felt Shaw’s blow, only a deep and bitter resentment.

“Very well, then,” Shaw said to him, and he lifted his cup in a mocking kind of salute. “Run along. I’m sure you have something to be doing.”

Erik inclined his head again- the closest he could come to a bow- and took his leave, heading back out into the cold air. He realized as he walked that his eyes were stinging, but he refused to let a single tear fall. He would not be any more pathetic than he already was.

~

The moment Erik walked in the door Charles was on him, a flurry of tender concern.

“What _happened_ to you?” he asked and, surprised, Erik let himself be ushered into a chair. Charles’ fingers brushed lightly over his cheek, and then his chin, an anxious hiss passing between his teeth. “I’ll get something, hold on…”

Erik didn’t answer the question; he felt unduly tired from his day- that interaction with Shaw had drained something in him, as they always did. And, sure enough, he didn’t need to- Charles looked back at him from where he was bustling in one of the cupboards, a finger tapping his own temple briefly. As Erik watched Charles’ brow furrowed further, his red lips turning down into a frown.

“That cruel, _cruel_ man,” he said, and he crossed the floor of the room again on bare feet, pressing a cloth into some mixture he had fixed in a bowl. “I don’t understand how you people can live with him…”

“Sometimes, we don’t,” Erik murmured. Charles pressed the cloth to the side of his face where he had been struck- he expected the contact to hurt, the way medicine usually did, but all he felt against his cheek was a gentle, radiating warmth. Charles dabbed the tincture across his skin carefully, his eyes a picture of perfect focus, white teeth worrying his lower lip. 

Erik shivered- he still felt raw somewhere inside, his heart torn up by hatred of his own cowardice, and Charles was so...tender. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft motions of the cloth shift down his cheek and across his chin, where Shaw had made him bleed. Once again, there was no pain.

It had been a long time since anyone had been so gentle with him.

Hearing this, perhaps, Charles placed a kiss on Erik’s forehead, sighing lightly into his hair. Without opening his eyes, Erik wrapped his arms around Charles’ waist, holding him still in an embrace. For a long moment they simply rested there, Erik entirely absorbed in Charles’ sweet scent and the soft touch of his lips, in the warmth radiating from his cheek where there should have been pain.

“Why do you do this for me?” Erik asked at length, finally opening his eyes again. The greatest question of all. In response, Charles smiled at him, a thumb stroking across his temple.

“There’s more to you than you know,” he said gently. “You’ve spent so long thinking your life is only pain and anger- but there’s good in you, too. I’ve seen it.”

His eyes flickered away from Erik’s face, over to the window. Erik saw every minute shift in his expression- from affection to something empty, his pupils turning to glass. The look that always came over his face when he saw the ocean.

“You surprised me in that way,” Charles finished airily, and he came back to himself (perhaps, because of Erik’s sudden fearful tightening of his grip) with a sideways little smirk. “So stop worrying. You know, I’ve already searched this place up and down for it- I’m not going anywhere.”

He turned away, cleaning up the medicine bowl and adding the finishing touches to dinner. Erik didn’t understand what he had said (not uncommon) but was too tired to dwell on the matter for long. He felt warm and inexplicably still, as though something had been quieted inside him after years of becoming used to screaming. 

That night, Erik fell asleep first, to the feeling of Charles’ fingers running softly through his hair.

~

The day after, Shaw did nothing unusual- he did not single Erik out again, or even behave as though the incident had occurred, and Erik was fine with that. When Erik returned home in the evening, however, something strange was waiting for him- Charles was not there.

There was no food in the pot, and the hearth was out. The worry this brought to Erik was instantaneous- Charles had never not been waiting for him in the little cottage. Something must have happened.

Thankfully for Erik’s hard-beating heart, he didn’t have to look far- coming around the side of the house in a rush, he spotted Charles standing on the slope of the hill that led to the beach, looking out across the water. As Erik approached, he saw that Charles was wearing more of Erik’s clothes than he usually did, but still his feet were bare, toes turning pink from the chill of the earth beneath them.

“Charles,” Erik said, but Charles did not look over at him. “...is everything alright?”

“Someone came by the house today,” Charles replied, speaking as though he was very far away. “A blonde woman, very beautiful.”

_Emma,_ Erik thought, with no little trepidation. The clan’s wise woman was Shaw’s closest companion- there was no way she would not tell him about Charles. If that were so, Charles was surely in danger- Shaw would never leave something like him alone, and if he knew that Charles could do magic, then...

“She didn’t see me,” Charles continued, likely in response to his thoughts. “I hid from her. But she probably had...suspicions.”

She had _something,_ that was for sure, if she had snuck into Erik’s house while he was away. Erik felt another bristle of hate in his chest rise at the thought of Shaw. The chieftain would never just let Erik be- no, it had to be clear he was _owned,_ someone occupying that humiliating space between _vassal_ and _son._ A dog that would not bite, even when it was whipped.

“Do you know what she came for?” Erik asked, trying to focus on the problem at hand. “Could you see her thoughts?”

Charles shrugged, seemingly disinterested in the affair, still staring out across the sea. 

“No,” he replied. “She stopped me- not that I tried very hard. She’s a witch, after all.”

Erik was shocked for an instant, and then he growled to himself, looking down at the slow-growing grass. It wasn’t like that wasn’t already a rumour- plenty of people had seen not-so-natural things from Emma, and sometimes her gifts seemed to extend beyond the limits of what one could expect from herbs and poultices. But even if it was true, it was unlikely anyone would challenge her- or even want to. This certainly put Erik at a disadvantage...though he didn’t even know at what he was disadvantaged, yet. What did Shaw want from him, anyway? Why was he doing this- did he really only suspect Erik of stealing from the food supply?

Charles chuckled coldly to himself, breaking Erik from his reverie.

“You people are so strange,” he said, his brow suddenly furrowed as though distressed. “Dreaming of betraying each other- of _killing_ each other- sometimes, I wonder how there is good in you at all.” 

Erik reached out tentatively at this, putting a hand on Charles’ shoulder. At his touch Charles’ gaze finally broke from the sea, turning back to examine Erik’s face with an expression of painful, desperate anguish. The sight shocked Erik to his core, and somehow Charles seemed to notice this, suddenly schooling himself into something more familiar.

“Oh, now look at me,” he said in an impression of his usual lively voice. “I’ve forgotten to make you dinner! Honestly…”

He turned around and darted back into the house, his bare feet leaving little patterns in the few patches of snow. Erik followed, trying to tell him he didn’t have to, but he didn’t put up much of a fight- admittedly, he had gotten used to not having to cook for himself.

And besides, he needed to think. Something was afoot with Shaw, and Erik couldn’t stand it- only a few months ago, Erik would have submitted to this treatment with only his usual dose of bitterness, but everything was different now. 

Now, Erik had something to lose.


	3. Chapter 3

Late in the night- or perhaps, very early in the morning- Erik woke to the feeling of Charles slipping from his arms. At first, the sensation caused little stir- he heard soft footsteps on the stone floor, and vaguely assumed Charles must be going to relieve himself outside, and then easily drifted back to sleep.

When Erik woke next it was to the dawn, as always- but something was different this time. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and as soon as he did any vestiges of sleepiness were rapidly shot from his body: the bed was cold. 

Charles was gone.

Erik swore as he sat up, blinking in the rosy light from the window- furiously scanning the room to see if he had missed something, if Charles could be hidden in some little crack or shadow, perfectly safe and well. But he wasn’t. He had vanished.

Erik dressed himself in a rush, not caring if the end result appeared haphazard- he had acted too slowly on the concern of Emma’s intrusion and Shaw’s suspicion. Something had been going wrong and, foolishly, he had ignored it- he wouldn’t be able to bear himself if he was too late…

Outside, Charles still was nowhere, and so on instinct Erik ran towards the beach- there was no reason to assume this, and yet he went there anyway, drawn by some lure he was barely aware of, nevermind capable of naming. For it, though, he was rewarded- his eyes caught hold of a dark shape out on the ice, and he made for it.

“Charles!” he called as he approached, and the figure looked up- blue eyes and a pale, familiar face, thank God, and as the relief of this flooded him he suddenly took in something else, too- Charles was not alone.

Laid out on the ice beside him was a long, golden-furred seal.

Erik slowed, catching his breath in painful gulps of the freezing air. It was hard to tell with the sun still rising- such a light made the world a strange one- but it didn’t seem like Charles was injured, or distressed. Apart from the seal, there was no one else around.

“It’s alright,” Charles murmured softly, no longer looking at Erik. “He isn’t going to hurt you.”

Charles was stroking the seal as he said this, bare fingers running over the creature’s head and snout, and its huge, liquid eyes turned from him to Erik and back again, clearly anxious.

“What is this?” Erik asked, not sure if he should be feeling foolish for his earlier fear- by all appearances, Charles had come out here on his own and was perfectly fine, but that still didn’t explain the strange sight. Erik had never seen anything like it- seals ran when approached by humans (as they should, he supposed), they didn’t stay and let themselves be pet like _dogs._

“This...” Charles began, and then he paused, pursing his lips. He gave Erik a calculating look, blue eyes sharp and narrowed, as though deciding whether Erik was worthy of knowing. Aware of this, Erik tried to stand straighter, to make himself appear more trustworthy, and with a small snort Charles rolled his eyes.

“This is my _sister,”_ he said at last, giving the seal a firm pat on the head. “Erik, this is Raven. Raven, this is my husband.”

The seal growled at him, opening its mouth- _her_ mouth- to reveal long lines of surprisingly sharp teeth. Erik just stared at her, stupefied.

“Don’t mind that,” Charles said to him, but he didn’t look up, eyes focused somewhere on the ruff of the seal’s neck. The expression on his face was strange- gentle, but at the same time almost bitter.

“...she’s only mad because you _skinned_ me...and made such a mess doing it.”

…

And with that, suddenly, all of the pieces came flying together.

Charles, who had appeared from ‘nowhere’, Charles who hadn’t known how to walk- who ached in his limbs because he shouldn’t even _have_ them, who gazed out at the ocean in longing. Charles, who had given himself to Erik and made it seem like he hadn’t chosen to, and it was because he really _hadn’t._ Erik had done this to him. Erik had _forced_ him to…

...the old stories came back to him, the words of warning and comfort his mother had given him as a child, telling him (as all mothers should) of the truths of the world that lay just out of sight. Fairies, dryads, ghosts, good luck and bad luck and magic...

...and, among other things, the seal-folk.

Erik had been a tremendous fool.

Charles bent and kissed his sister’s forehead, and she chuffed at him, bumping her nose against his chin. He smiled at her, but it was a sad smile, and as he watched she shuffled her way back across the ice, slipping into a crack with only one more backward glance- Erik hadn’t thought seals naturally expressive creatures, but the parting look she gave Charles was clearly fond, and Erik decidedly dirty.

When she had splashed her way into the ocean again, Erik was left alone with Charles, who stood slowly, stretching his arms out above his head.

“Well then,” he said mildly. “What do you fancy for breakfast?”

“I…” Erik found he didn’t know what to say. He was painfully aware of the fact that he had done something horrible. The last month spent with Charles was being reevaluated in his head at lightning speed, beginning with the vivid resurgence in memory of the day he and Shaw had skinned the seal. He remembered how the creature had cried- how obviously it had been in _pain._ He remembered how the snow had been stained with blood, how the meat of the animal had steamed, just how long it had taken for the thing to die...only it hadn’t died. The shapeshifter had been caught and trapped, forced into servitude- into _marriage-_ by its hunter, just like the legends said.

“You really didn’t know, did you?” Charles asked him with some amusement, turning his head to the side like a cat. Erik just looked at him, helpless, his fists clenched at his side, and with a sigh Charles leaned over and pecked his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Erik said, and his words sounded feeble even to himself as Charles took his hand and began leading him back up to the house. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Charles said, without looking back at him. His legs had become strong, Erik observed from a distance- they did not shake climbing the slope, as they had the first time.

“But I don’t have it,” Erik said slowly, the thought dawning on him as he spoke. “I don’t have your skin…”

Charles turned to him at that, lips parting to say something, but he was cut off by another voice, one that came from just beside Erik’s cottage.

“Ah, wonderful! Just who I was hoping to see…”

...said Shaw.

Charles froze, and Erik immediately moved in front of him, shoving the smaller man behind his back as though he could hide him there. Shaw shook his head, amused, leaning casually against the stone wall of the house.

“I knew you were keeping something from me, Erik,” he continued lightly- the danger was hidden behind the cordiality of his voice. “I suppose I can’t blame you. It’s very pretty.”

He turned his head, looking past Erik to Charles, and he opened his arms.

“Hello there, sweetheart,” he said with a lazy smile. “Come here and give me a kiss- I’m your husband too, after all.”

Charles made no move to obey, and Erik snarled, stepping in front of him again. Shaw only laughed, clapping his hands together, and as he did so Emma stepped around the side of the house, picking her way delicately through the melting snow, a disinterested expression on her face.

“Run,” Erik told Charles, and Charles made a little noise in protest, fingers touching Erik’s arm. Erik pushed him off, back towards the beach. “I said, _run.”_

“But she has a spell on you-”

_“Go,”_ Erik snarled, desperate, and perhaps this desperation finally clicked in Charles’ mind because, with only one last wide-eyed look, he turned and darted back the way he had come, bare feet making little sound in the snow.

“Don’t be silly, Erik,” Shaw said, and when Erik turned back Emma was suddenly standing before him, one fine hand reaching up to touch the bridge between his eyebrows.

“Cool your head,” she said to him, and her thumb where it pressed to Erik’s skin felt like ice. Erik flinched, but something inside him gave way, his limbs suddenly weighing far more than they had before. Behind him, Charles yelped, and when Erik looked he saw Azazel- the best of them all, the quickest and quietest, he who could seem to appear from nowhere- take Charles by the wrists, yanking him to the ground. Erik tried to call out, but no sound made it past his throat- he was dizzy, his own body dragging him down to earth and into darkness. The last thing he heard was Charles calling his name, his voice coming from somewhere distant, the sound a far-away echo in his mind…

…

Erik woke with a start, face down in the mud. For a moment, he was only confused- and then it all came back to him in a rush, a burst of sight and sound in his memory, and he stood with his heart beating hard in his chest and rage burning in the back of his throat.

He was still by his house- they had just left him on the ground. The sun had not risen far yet- if Erik had to guess, less than an hour had passed since he had found Charles on the ice flat. There was still a chance.

His limbs shaking from the stress of it all, Erik went back into his house, picking through his things for weapons. He took a favoured, familiar knife, slipping it into his belt- for a moment, the decisiveness of this surprised him. What was he actually going to do? The answer came, hot and ready from his subconscious, as always: _kill Shaw; take your revenge._ Would he be able to, this time? Would anything really be different? After all, he had never been strong enough before-

A series of impressions flickered through his mind. Charles’ voice, saying: _she has a spell on you._ The cold touch of Emma’s fingers, his body being dragged down to sleep- the very same feeling he always had whenever he gave up his resolve to kill Shaw, whenever he failed…

But there wasn’t time for unhelpful musings like this. Charles had been taken, that was more important than anything. Whatever Shaw wanted with him, Erik didn’t think it could be good.

Now determined, Erik left the cottage behind, and set off for the village at a run. He had a feeling he knew where Shaw had gone.

~

All was quiet around the chieftain’s house, the surrounding paths suspiciously abandoned- Erik didn’t bother to announce himself in any way, stepping through the unlocked door to that awful trophy room, which was filled with all of Shaw’s closest associates, each who turned to look at him with varying degrees of surprise.

Kneeling on the stone floor by Shaw’s usual throne was Charles, his hands tied behind his back. He had obviously been struck, a bruise beginning to form across one cheekbone, and for a moment Erik saw red.

“That didn’t take long,” said Shaw, reclining comfortably in his seat. “Janos, take that knife. You can stay, Erik, provided you don’t cause any trouble.”

Erik raised his hands by his head to show he agreed, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt. Janos gave him a mildly pitying look as he took the knife from Erik’s belt, twirling it around in his fingers. Erik surveyed the room- Emma was seated in her usual place, frowning as she looked Erik up and down, like he had done something she hadn’t expected. Behind her stood Tempest, the only huntress, and she too was frowning- but more from general confusion than anything. In the far corner of the room was Azazel, his arms folded calmly across his chest, face unreadable. In short, too many to fight on his own, especially in so enclosed a space. Erik sighed, and slowly folded his hands behind his back, taking on his usual pose- that of a good hunting dog.

Shaw seemed to appreciate it, smiling, and he reached out with one hand to pat Charles’ head, running his fingers through that soft brown hair. Erik’s nails dug into the skin of his own wrists so hard it stung.

“What do you want with him?” Erik asked, struggling to keep his voice even. After all, it had been Shaw’s idea to go seal hunting- Shaw who had picked the target, Shaw who had insisted on that brutal procedure. Shaw who- now Erik remembered- had been trying to find something on that beach, the day Erik had brought Charles home. He had clearly known what would happen, he had done this on _purpose._

“Don’t you know?” Shaw replied, still stroking Charles in that possessive, self-satisfied way. Erik’s only consolation was that Charles didn’t seem to be enjoying it- his shoulders were stiff and his jaw tight, eyes fixed to the floor. 

“These things have the most incredible powers,” Shaw continued. “They can read human minds, and _control_ them too, far better than any witch or warlock.”

Emma shifted in her seat at this, flashing Shaw the faintest of resentful looks, but she said nothing. Shaw didn’t even seem to notice, lifting his palms up in an expression of his pleasure, the way he always did making speeches.

“Think of what we could do,” he said rapturously. “The territories of our neighbours could easily be ours. Clan Shaw could be more than a simple fishing backwater- we could be up there with the best of them, with a weapon like this!”

The air fell silent after this declaration- Erik wondered what the others were thinking. Tempest looked hungry at the suggestion- Emma, too. The men were inscrutable as always. Erik himself only felt sick. There was an allure to power, certainly- but he would possess no more under Shaw than he always had. The only difference would be that Shaw would have more people under his boot. The man was not a creator- he would not build some greater, united society, Erik knew. Shaw was selfish and cruel, the kind of man who would be a terrible king.

“But don’t worry, Erik,” Shaw said with a little chuckle. He looked back at Charles, running a thumb over his cheek and then his lower lip, the gesture vaguely lewd. “You can still play with it, if you want. It’s not really my type- I was hoping for a female- but I bet it gave you lots of fun. I hear they make an extraordinary fuck.”

The end of his thumb wormed between Charles’ lips, forcing itself onto his tongue, and Charles bit him. Immediately Shaw drew back, swearing- a smear of blood was left on Charles’ mouth- and with his uninjured arm he backhanded Charles across the face, hard enough to knock him to the floor. 

Erik moved without meaning to, and Janos put a hand on his chest to stop him, shaking his head ruefully. Erik was breathing too hard. Charles caught his gaze from the ground, a shiver running through the entirety of his too-bare body, and then his eyes flicked up above his head- Erik followed them, already knowing what he would see.

This was something important, he knew- the gray sealskin was mounted over Shaw’s fireplace. 

_-erikplease-_

Erik thought he heard Charles speak these words, the sound like a whisper against his cheek, but he did not see his mouth move. Perhaps it had only been an illusion, formed from the pulsing of Erik’s own blood in his ears.

“There’ll be no more of that,” Shaw said, wrapping his injured thumb in a strip of cloth. He had stood, and now he kicked Charles in the stomach, the blow hard enough to make Charles whimper but seemingly an afterthought for the chieftain. “You have to do what I say, don’t you?”

“You want me to kill people,” Charles said weakly- definitely out loud, this time. More than Shaw’s blood bubbled up behind his lips. “I will never do that.”

Shaw frowned at this, looking down at the spirit, clearly dissatisfied.

“You will,” he replied, his tone deceptively mild. “It is your marital obligation to serve me.”

Charles bared red teeth, his eyes flashing like an animal’s in the shadow. Erik couldn’t help but think his canines looked inexplicably sharper than they ever had before- closer to those of a seal than a man.

_“We’re not married,”_ Charles hissed. “You didn’t find me first. _I haven’t given you my name.”_

“Ah,” Shaw said, unphased by the fairy-logic, and he turned ever so slowly to face Erik. “Well then.”

Erik felt the room close in around him- all the eyes in it were fixated on him, and almost none of them were friendly. A sudden spike of bloodlust could be felt in the air.

“Now, I am not an expert in your contracts, _selkie,”_ Shaw said absently to Charles, though he took a step closer to Erik as he did so. “How would one go about making the transfer? It would be a pity if he has to die, but-”

“I challenge you,” Erik said suddenly, his voice coming out louder than he had expected. Shaw blinked at him, surprised- that surprise was echoed across the room, Tempest letting out a little gasp and covering her mouth.

“Excuse me?” Shaw said.

“I challenge you for leadership of Clan Shaw,” Erik repeated. He only hoped his voice didn’t tremble as it left his throat- after all, he almost hadn’t known what he was going to say until he said it, and yet as soon as the words formed in the air he knew he wanted this. He wanted it more than anything in the world. “I claim the right to ritual- single combat, to the death.”

A very, very old rite- Erik hadn’t seen it implemented in his own lifetime, though it was said it was through this that Shaw himself had come to power in his youth. Such a thing was never a _good_ idea- Shaw was a formidable fighter- but Erik’s blood in that moment was hotter than it had ever been, all of Shaw’s old trespasses amplified by the sight of Charles’ blood staining his own pale cheek, every memory of his wrongdoing bubbling to the surface of Erik’s mind.

“Oh, come now,” Shaw said, putting his cold smile back on- though, Erik thought, he still looked disarmed. “You don’t really want that- does he, Emma?”

Emma murmured something, and Erik felt with despair the beginnings of that familiar, cold feeling- the desire to back down, to submit, formed from the frost filling his limbs. But this time the sensation did not reach its culmination- it cut off abruptly as Emma cried out, suddenly rising from her chair, one hand clasped to her own fair head.

“How are you- no- _get out, monster!”_ she shrieked, spinning around to glare at- of all people- Charles, who had fixed her in place under his own brilliant blue gaze.

“Go to sleep,” Charles said to her softly, and the moment he did she fell to the ground, her body going limp like a doll. The sight was unimaginably frightening.

“That’s exactly what I meant,” Shaw said in wonder- he too was looking back at Charles, who glared at him from the floor with obvious disgust. “That power-”

“Don’t look at him,” Erik snapped, forcing Shaw’s eyes back to him. “Look at me. The challenge stands.”

Shaw pursed his lips, his eyes calculating. Erik stood his ground. He refused to think of fear or doubt- he had no choice but to win. 

“Erik,” Charles called, his voice weak in the silence. He sounded like he was in pain. “You don’t need to do this…”

Erik didn’t look back at him, but he grit his teeth. Of course, Charles had no reason to trust him with this, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He would prove himself.

“The challenge stands,” Janos echoed suddenly, taking a step to Erik’s side. Erik hoped his surprise didn’t show on his face. Shaw’s frown deepened, but he held up his hands, a surrender.

“Very well,” he said lowly. “Weapons?”

Erik almost grinned- no, he did not doubt himself anymore. Perhaps he never truly had- perhaps all of his previous cowardly surrenders had been a trick of the witch all along. Bloodlust was burning in his veins, and he had never felt so sure of himself.

Janos gave Erik back his knife, patting him faintly on the back as he did so. Shaw chose a blade from his own inventory as well- longer and uglier than Erik’s, clearly meant for killing.

“Tempest, gather the people,” Shaw said testily, sharpening his blade. “We’ll need witnesses. I name the place- outside the house, in the square.”

Erik nodded to show he agreed, letting Tempest past him and out the door, hearing her voice cry out in the clear morning air. The moment was coming. One way or another, tomorrow the dawn would be red.

“And don’t bring the demon,” Shaw continued with a terrible little grin. “I don’t doubt it’s already chosen a favourite.”

~

Erik and Shaw stood on opposing sides of the muddy square, watching each other. The arena for their fight was loosely defined by the borders of the crowd- it looked like the entire village had shown up to see the results. Erik wondered how many of them hoped for Shaw’s death, the way he had for so many years.

The announcement of the challenge had already been made- all that was left was for Tempest to drop the piece of tartan she was holding in the air, to signify the start of the fight.

In the moment the cloth fell to the ground, it seemed the entire world held its breath.

Erik and Shaw began circling each other immediately. There was no brutish rush to the center of the ring- both men had knives, and both men were hunters. Erik adjusted his grip on his own blade- the metal felt very comfortable in his hands, like it was meant to be there. He grinned, and Shaw frowned, his brow furrowed.

When Erik made the first move, the crowd gasped- he closed the distance in a lunge and swiped for Shaw’s left arm, narrowly missing, and pulled back into himself before Shaw’s retaliatory strike could land. The action was almost too quick to see, and when it was over both men resumed their predator’s walk in that slow circle. Erik’s heart was beating so hard he almost shook with it.

“You can’t do this, boy,” Shaw said quietly, for Erik’s ears alone. “You don’t have it in you.”

With a low growl, Erik struck again- feinting for the stomach, and when Shaw curved away Erik kicked him in the shin, destabilizing him enough to bring the knife around again, the metal cutting cleanly through the cloth and flesh under Shaw’s shoulder. Whispers broke out across the crowd at the sight of blood, and Erik wasn’t sure if the look on his face was a smile or a manic baring of fangs.

_One._

Back in the circling movement, Shaw shrugged off the wound, even though blood was running down his chest.

“Not a killing blow,” he said to Erik mildly, like a father teaching his son a lesson. “That won’t be good enough.”

Next, Shaw struck first- quicker than Erik had anticipated- he wasn’t able to dodge in time, not entirely, and Shaw’s blade nicked him across the ribs. He had clearly been aiming for the heart.

Erik swore to himself, his own blade flashing, but Shaw’s arm blocked its path to his jugular. Shaw kicked him in the stomach, then, sending him over onto his back in the cold mud, and he was barely able to roll away before Shaw’s foot came down again where he had been lying. This time, Erik was quick- he slashed at the bend in Shaw’s knee and the strike landed, blood spraying in the air. Shaw stumbled aside, clearly surprised by this, and Erik regained his footing, having barely noticed the bruising force of his landing on the frozen ground. He felt an unusual heat on his chest- likely, he was bleeding from where Shaw had cut him- but he ignored this, also.

_Two._

Shaw looked angrier than Erik had ever seen him, now. Both their knives had tasted blood, and were singing from it- but Erik had struck twice and, moreover, Shaw was unbalanced by the wound on his leg. Confident, Erik made another lunge, bringing all his strength down in an aim for Shaw’s throat- but he was too assured, drunk on his killing instinct, forgetting that Shaw was a man, not a wounded deer. Shaw’s own knife flicked up, slicing through the skin on Erik’s forearm as he dodged, and the pain of this was shocking enough that Erik’s grip on his own weapon loosened, the blade falling to the ground.

Erik stumbled, blood spraying from his wrist, and Shaw tripped his legs out from under him, sending him to the ground again. This time, Erik was not strong enough to move aside before Shaw’s foot came into contact with his stomach- once, twice, harder each time. Erik saw the world flicker before his eyes- he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“A pity, Erik,” Shaw said distantly, striking the cut on Erik’s chest with the toe of his boot- the pain from this actually blinded Erik for an instant, turning his vision white. “You know, you were a favourite of mine.”

Shaw raised his knife, the edges of the metal shining in the sun, and Erik was too weak- he couldn’t entirely feel his limbs, let alone move them- his ears were ringing, he wasn’t sure where he was, he could taste blood in his mouth- was this really it? It had happened too fast- 

_-ERIK-_

Shaw froze in mid swing, his knife coming to a standstill above Erik’s heart, and over his shoulder Erik caught a glimpse of the crowd- at its forefront was Charles, his face pale and bloody and his eyes huge, two fingers fixed to his temple. Erik took a shuddering breath and scrabbled for his fallen blade, clutching it with trembling fingers- and the moment it was in his hand he knocked Shaw’s arm aside, shoving him back onto the ground, reversing their positions. 

Shaw looked up at him- eyes wide in clear horror- and without a moment’s hesitation Erik slammed his own blade straight down through the bone of Shaw’s forehead.

_...three._

Someone cried out- Erik thought it was Charles- and the eerie silence that had fallen over the crowd in these last moments was broken. Voices called out from all around, screams of shock and confusion and even, Erik thought, _jubilation-_ he released his grip on the handle of his blade, sitting back on his haunches. There was no expression on Shaw’s face, not anymore. Erik, though blood streamed heavily from his arm and tremors shook his entire body, had done it at last.

Erik looked back up to where Charles had been- he had fallen unconscious, Erik saw, and Janos had half-caught him, lowering him to the ground. Janos must have untied him then, too. Erik would have to thank them both.

“Erik…” said a voice. Erik turned- it was Tempest, her eyes very wide, darting between him and Shaw’s empty body. Slowly, she held up a roughly-made laurel, and placed it carefully on his head. “Chieftain,” she finished, more clearly now, the word loud enough for everyone to hear.

Though it was extremely difficult to make his shaking limbs comply, Erik stood, his uninjured arm coming up to feel the evergreen needles of the laurel. The village was watching him- he saw a mass of long-familiar faces, of wide eyes and open mouths and wondrous expressions. Slowly, it dawned on Erik was had just happened- he had been focused so much on killing Shaw, he had almost forgotten what the challenge really entailed. He was to be their leader now.

“Brothers and sisters,” Erik began, searching dizzily for the right words to say- but before he had any hope of finding them, the blood loss from his injuries became too much, and the world before his eyes fell away into darkness.

~

Charles woke late that afternoon, after Erik himself had been rehabilitated and bandaged by a surprisingly welcoming Emma (who had spent the entirety of the fight unconscious). She and Azazel seemed to have accepted the change in leadership like it was nothing, while Tempest was more obviously shocked- Janos, Erik knew, had been rooting for him. As for the rest of the village, he would find out eventually- funeral rights for the old chieftain took precedence over other procedures at the moment, Erik had been told, so the extent of his duties was currently only to recover from his injuries.

So recover he would. Though he did not much like this, he had been set up in Shaw’s former home, gaudy as it was. With little insistence some of the townspeople had carried Charles into bed there, when he had not woken after the fight. Though Erik had been dizzy from blood loss himself, he had begun to worry more for Charles, who- Erik realized- had surely been holding Shaw down with magic when that last strike had gone through his head. 

So when those blue eyes flickered open the relief Erik felt was palpable. He ran his fingers through that soft brown hair and Charles turned into the touch, humming faintly. 

“How are you?” Erik asked, and Charles shrugged half-heartedly.

“Better than you, I think,” he replied, his hand brushing over the bandage on Erik’s forearm.

“That’s not important,” Erik said quietly, though he appreciated the touch. “What matters is that you’re safe now, and...he’s gone.”

This fact still surprised Erik, every time his mind took to it. Just yesterday, he would not have anticipated such a future, and yet here it was. Everything had changed so quickly- now that the world was slowing around him, Erik found he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“You’ll be good,” Charles murmured, reaching up to run cool fingers across Erik’s forehead. “I know you will. But…”

“What is it?” Erik asked as Charles’ touch withdrew. Charles looked at him sadly, his brow furrowed, and then suddenly- as though with new determination- he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Erik stood to follow him as Charles padded lightly down the hall. He stopped in the doorway to the trophy room, looking back at Erik with an incredible light burning in his eyes.

“But,” he said again, his voice nearly a whisper. “...we don’t want the same thing.”

Erik looked past him, to the sealskin mounted over the hearth, and slowly he nodded. Charles shivered, a tremor running through his entire body, and stood still as Erik crossed the floor to the fireplace and reached up, lifting the thing from its hooks. The fur was still unimaginably soft- when Erik raised it to his face, he found it smelled of Charles.

“I…” he began, but he found he didn’t know what to say. Charles just looked at him, a desperate plea writ large across his entire face, and Erik knew he couldn’t keep this from him. It felt like a kind of heartbreak- but it wasn’t really a surprise. He had known that he wasn’t enough for Charles. He had known that for some time now.

Erik held out the skin, and Charles slowly took it, his hands trembling as he gathered it in his arms. A tear, Erik saw, had found its way from the corner of Charles’ eye and down his bruised cheek. 

“I love you,” Erik said.

Charles only looked at him once more- a wide-eyed, broken, half-feral look- and then he turned on his heel and ran from the house without another word. Erik followed him at first, as far as the door, and then stopped himself. He didn’t have the right. And besides, Charles was already gone.

Overcome, Erik slammed his fist against the wooden frame of the front door, and he didn’t feel the pain- all was concentrated on that which burned in his chest, the ache of terrible loss. There was no other choice- he wouldn’t make Charles a slave, the way Shaw had so many people- but Erik’s heart bled anyway. 

Charles hadn’t even left any footprints in the frozen earth.

After, Erik returned to the bed in Shaw’s house _(his_ house, now) and breathed in the lingering sweet scent on the covers. He did not look at the empty space where the skin had hung. 

So many things were over, now. Erik supposed it was justified to cry.

~

Spring came to the village and with it, plenty. The air warmed and the grass greened, new winds brought fresh smells from the melting sea. Game returned to the forest, and barley to the fields. The people pulled through, as they always did.

Erik’s relationship to them was different now- he had dismantled Shaw’s cruel, hierarchical clique. He did not dispense commands and punishment from somewhere far above them, but rather gave suggestions from within- it was strange, but before very long people met his eyes as he walked the streets, raised their hands to him and called his name. He realized he had been so very alone, before, and now there was an entire village of people who thought of him and cared for him and even _liked_ him, when they had only feared him before. For the first time since he had been a boy, he found the clan to be a home, rather than a prison, and for this he was...happy.

He tried not to think of the days he had spent leading up to the challenge, to the former chieftain’s death. The loss of some things made them painful to remember, and as such were better kept out of mind. Besides, the endings of fairytales were always bittersweet.

In the mornings, though, Erik still went down to the beach to walk, looking out at the water. He still wondered, when he could not stop himself, what it was like beneath the waves- wondered how the creatures that lived there spent their days, and if they were happy. He hoped they were.

If anyone had thoughts about the chieftain’s peculiar morning melancholy, or the way he sighed when he looked out at the water, they did not say. He always shook off the sentiment in time to work, and only let his heart hurt when he was alone at night, his arms empty in the too-large bed of his new home.

One day on the brink of summer a colony of seals settled on the rocky beach, sunning themselves in the early-morning light. Erik approached them, curious- his heart, of course, had leapt at the sight, but he tamped the feeling down quickly. He tried to appear friendly to the strangers, but most of them gave him disinterested or outright irritated looks, wiggling back into the water before he could come too close.

Most- not all. One in particular stayed- a young gray seal, who turned its head to the side in a familiar gesture as Erik came near. It did not run, even when Erik was right before it, huge dark eyes blinking at him in a way that was almost...fond.

“Charles?” Erik asked, and his voice shook as it left his throat. He reached out a hand and the seal sniffed the ends of his fingers before allowing itself to be pet, nuzzling back against the palm of Erik’s hand as he stroked the soft, wet fur on its head. 

Erik wanted to say something more, but he didn’t have the words- and before he could he was interrupted by a bark, the call of a golden seal from the edge of the water. The gray seal turned, looking back after its companion, and then with one last casual bob of its head to Erik it shuffled away, bouncing happily down to the ocean where it rubbed noses with the one who had called it.

Erik watched the two seals play for a moment, splashing each other, and then they were gone, sliding under the waves and out to deeper waters, where Erik could not even begin to follow.

Erik watched the waves for a long time, and told himself it shouldn’t be possible for a heart to break twice.

~

That night Erik woke to a distant sound- a creaking of wood, hardly noticeable, only enough to stir him from sleep. He ignored it easily, rolling onto his side, feeling the edges of his mind pull down into themselves again, trying to take him away to his rest.

But he was kept in that in-between state of sleep and wake by the continuation of these night anomalies: soft, rustling movements echoed within the stone walls of his own house, and there came a sound like bare feet padding along his floor. All of it was quiet enough that Erik barely rose until the noises were coming from within his very bedroom, a time by which- should this be an assassin- he would have been too late; as Erik opened his eyes the bed dipped, something joining him in it, a body that shone white in the moonlight that came through the window.

Erik had time only to breathe, and then he was being kissed, soft lips finding his and relaxing his tensed muscles. Erik’s next inhalation trembled in his chest, his hands trailing up the warm body in his arms- and all was familiar, every curve and swell, every note of that sweet scent.

_“Charles,”_ Erik gasped when the kiss broke, and bright blue eyes looked back at him, red lips curving up into a smirk.

“Erik,” Charles replied, and the sound of his voice made the dream real, took away any doubt Erik had that this was only a figment of his imagination. He stroked Charles’ pale cheek in wonder, and Charles kicked his legs behind him playfully, turning his head into the touch.

“Did you miss me?” he chirped, and the sound Erik made in reply was halfway between a sob and a laugh, which he tried to cover up with another desperate kiss.

“Why did you come back?” he asked when he was able to, and Charles only smiled, fingers trailing across Erik’s temples.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “And besides, I am _not_ ‘better kept out of mind’.”

“Will you stay?” was Erik’s next question- this more important than the last, perhaps the most important in the world. Charles shrugged, unbearably casual, but still he was smiling.

“I will, for a while,” he replied. “And then I will go, and then I will come back again. Can you accept that?”

Bright eyes flashed at Erik in the dark- a hint of that animal wildness- but Erik wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes,” he said. The sound of the word in the air had the feeling of a contract being signed. Charles, looking extremely self-satisfied, leaned down to kiss him again.

_“Perfect,”_ he purred.

~Fin~


End file.
